


Enough!

by LadyGlinda



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: BAMF Mycroft Holmes, Bickering, Brexit, Character Death, Crack Treated Seriously, M/M, Mild Smut, Murder, Mycroft is a Bit Not Good, RPF, Sherlock Being a Good Brother, Sibling Incest, holmescest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-15
Updated: 2019-10-15
Packaged: 2020-12-16 23:37:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 777
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21044669
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyGlinda/pseuds/LadyGlinda
Summary: Mycroft has an argument with the Prime Minister. It gets out of hand. Luckily, Sherlock helps out.Or: If Mycroft Holmes had to deal with Boris Johnson and Brexit.





	Enough!

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Snoozydog](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Snoozydog/gifts), [MezzaMorta](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MezzaMorta/gifts).

> Sparked by a conversation with Snoozydog. This weird little fic had to be written :D
> 
> Oh, just found this gem on Twitter: https://twitter.com/Markgatiss/status/1185482947715092480
> 
> Hahahahaha oh MG would love this fic!

“How _dare _you?!” Mycroft Holmes felt his pulse racing. There was sweat in his eyebrows. This all couldn’t be healthy. But… “How can you be so stupid!”

“Excuse me!” Boris Johnson, Prime Minister of what would soon be ‘Ex-Great-Britain’ ruffled his yellow hair. “I just want the best for our country and we can’t allow them to bully us around any lon...”

“Shut up! Shut up, you moron!”

“Mr Holmes! I’m the elected PM and...”

“No you are _not_!” Mycroft screeched, and reached up to his hammering heart a moment later.

“Calm down,” Johnson snorted. “We wouldn't want you to suffer a heart attack; didn't know you even had a heart! Damn, I thought your long holiday would have done at least something for your nerves.”

And why had he even agreed on taking them?! Right now? In this dire situation for their country! Lady Smallwood had insisted on it though, certainly meaning he should go with _her._ Of course he had taken Sherlock with him instead and these three weeks had been wonderful. Sex on a secluded beach, nights full of passion and wonder. No phone. No newspapers. Just bliss.

And now he had come home to _this_… “You’re ruining this kingdom,” he said through gritted teeth. He had dedicated his life to serving this kingdom and had always acted to the benefit of this nation. And this idiot and his accomplices did their best to destroy everything. 

The ugly head was shaken frantically. “That’s not true! It’s the EU’s fault that...”

“No it is not!” This stupid excuse for a politician really believed that! His manipulative masters had told him this crap and he had sucked it all up and the fanaticism in his eyes said it all.

Johnson waved his words away. “Brexit will happen. I will rather rot in a ditch than calling it off or asking them to give us more time. People will love me for it and...”

At this point, everything got a bit blurry. In fact Mycroft must have lost a couple of minutes, and when he snapped back to reality, the British PM was lying on the ground in Mycroft’s office with his face suddenly pretty red, his eyes bulged out of their sockets, his mouth open, his tongue hanging out, and around his neck there were red imprints of two large hands. It didn’t take a Holmesian mind to deduce what had happened…

With shivering fingers, he took out his phone and soon a deep baritone answered his call.

“Sherlock,” he said and cleared his throat. “You must come. Whitehall.”

“_What’s wrong? Did you kill the PM?” _Sherlock chuckled but when Mycroft didn’t answer, he gasped. _“Damn – you did?”_

“Apparently yes.” Thank God Anthea had gone home already. She would have probably clapped her hands at this, but he wouldn’t have wanted to involve her in this… delicate situation...

“_Fuck… Okay. Lock the door, stay calm. I will come and take care of it.”_

“Thank you, little brother.”

“_Ah, no worries. You’ve saved my arse so many times, I’m glad to help you out for a change.”_

*****

“This was awesome. I owe you, Sherlock.”

“Ah, nonsense. It was rather fun. Come… Get out of your suit. You need some calm-down-medicine.”

Mycroft hastily undressed and sat down on the bed. “And what might that be?” He moaned when Sherlock grinned and closed his sinful lips around his cock a moment later, giving him the wettest, slurpiest, most arousing blowjob he had ever received, and it was only a few minutes later that he released himself and the stress of this day into his brother’s greedily sucking mouth.

After that, he was urged to lie down and the blanket was stuffed around him. “No, I must return the favour,” he protested. “And I need a shower.”

“Nah. We’ll take a bath together later. But first you’ll take a nap. It was an exciting day.”

Mycroft had to agree. One didn’t kill the Prime Minister every day. If that solved their problems or not – it was a good start at least. And after all Sherlock had made sure the man’s wish had been fulfilled – he would rot in a ditch.

“What’s so funny?” Sherlock smirked before he bent down to kiss him.

“Never mind,” Mycroft said, sleepily. “Thank you, little brother. I love you.”

“Love you, too. And anytime. If I can be of assistance to our beautiful country, I’m just the one to turn to.”

With a happy smile, Mycroft drifted off to sleep. He had hope again and he had the best brother/lover anyone could wish for. “Bye, bye, Boris,” he mumbled before he closed his eyes.


End file.
